


Banging Head Against Wall

by storytellerof221b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Detox, Diapers, Drugs, Forced Feeding, M/M, Medical Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 19:36:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20031229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storytellerof221b/pseuds/storytellerof221b
Summary: Sherlock is bored to death and is also about to destroy the inside of 221B. He also writes a list. This time it's more than ever and John does what he has to. Sherlock doesn't like it but finds he had no choice.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know about detoxing so I just wrote what I thought might happen to someone. Please don't forget this is a fanfiction. Mind the tags!!

Sherlock wildly ran through the living-room of 221B. He was throwing papers and books around, tore apart the newspaper and knocked over a mug with already stale tea. Everything happened in total silence. That’s why John got so surprised when he entered their flat after a long and exhausting shift at the hospital. He stopped dead when being almost hit by a rolled-up newspaper.  
His reflexes were still first class so he quickly raised his hand and blocked the thing. It dropped onto the hardwood with a solid thump. Then John watched Sherlock for a few seconds. And finally, he had enough of his tantrum and blocked his way.  
That was the moment when Sherlock also started to yell and scream the house down. He used several languages of which John only spoke one.  
Sherlock tried to move around John but John didn’t let him. Instead he calmly spoke.  
“Sherlock, what’s going on here? Why are you so upset?” Sherlock wasn’t able to focus on him. His eyes looked like needle-points and flicked everywhere, only not on John.  
“Fuck!” John thought.  
“He has been using again.” This was his next thought. These seconds Sherlock needed to move around him. He made his way to the bookshelves and picked out one after the other and threw them over his shoulder. Interestingly he only used his own books and not John’s medical library.  
“Sherlock, stop that at once!” Sherlock was panting by now and suddenly turned back on John.  
“Or what? Hm?” He asked with a rough voice. Then he once giggled and continued with what he was doing.  
“What did you take and how much was it this time?” Now Sherlock giggled some more.  
“I wrote a note for you, too, John. See?” He reached into his dressing-gown and retrieved a folded piece of paper that he then threw over his shoulder. It floated to the ground and John picked it up.  
Sherlock had painted some cocaine plants and poppies. Beside his drawings were numbers that made John swallow.  
“You need to drink, Sherlock. Please?” He tried to make him stop and sit down on the sofa but Sherlock wouldn’t do as being told.  
“Leave me be!” He shouted and spit flew from his face. John swallowed. This was awful. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t knock him out, could he?  
“Sherlock, will you please listen to me?” John really tried to stay calm.  
“No!” Sherlock shouted. His dressing-gown hung half over his shoulder and his bare feet left sweaty marks on the hardwood. John swallowed and decided to do something. He needed to make him come down somehow.  
He moved up and behind his flatmate. He took his arm and pulled him away from the books. He used the motion and threw him on the sofa. Then he held him down while he was kicking his legs and yelling.  
John waited him out sitting on his back and forcing him chest down on the leather. After about fifteen minutes he was only panting and came down a little bit. But he wasn’t speaking.  
“Listen to me. I will get you into your room with loads and loads of water. If needed, I will restrain you. I very much advise you to behave properly.” Sherlock snorted but rather quietly.  
“You can’t just tie me to my bed-posts and force-feed me!” He barely got out the words.  
“Oh, can’t I?” John answered. Sherlock thought about John’s answer for a few seconds.  
“I will tell Mycroft!” He threatened finally.  
“And I will call him and ask for his permission right away. He will probably come over and help me.” John calmly said.  
“You wouldn’t dare …” Sherlock whispered.  
“It’s for your own good, Sherlock.” Sherlock stilled for a few seconds and then started to trash around. John turned his arm way up until he groaned because of the pain. He knelt on his wrist and got his mobile out of his pocket. He called Sherlock’s brother who picked up after the first ring.  
“Dr Watson, what can I do for you? Perhaps some ropes? Or may I assume you’ve got those anyway?” John paled and swallowed.  
“Mind your own business, Mycroft. And if you were watching anyway, you know why I am calling. So?” Mycroft sighed but answered quickly.  
“Just teach him a good lesson, John. You have my full support. I know you won’t hurt him.”  
“I will take good care of him, I promise.” John said with a rather rough voice.  
“Myc, he is torturing me! He wants to lock me up and keep me prisoner!” Sherlock yelled.  
“Tell the brat that I stand behind this and will look after him perhaps the day after tomorrow. Until then you will stay at home. I will cover. See you, Dr Watson.”  
“Thank you, Mycroft. See you.” John hung up and Sherlock tried to look up at him but the position he was in won’t allow it.  
“Your brother will see you the day after tomorrow. This is your last chance. Do you cooperate? Will you behave?” John asked.  
“What do you think?” Sherlock hissed and his face became ugly. John swallowed.  
“Very well. This is your fault then.” He got off of him and pulled him up. He shoved him into his bedroom and threw him on his bed.  
Sherlock fought, he really tried to fight him, but John was a trained close combat fighter and easily overpowered him. He pressed two fingers on a certain pressure point to paralyse him. Sherlock looked shocked.  
John moved upstairs to get some cuffs. He undressed him and tied him to the bed. Now Sherlock was crying and John tried not to look at him. He pulled up the blanket and waited until he was able to speak again.  
“You will get the drugs out of your system. You will eat and you will drink. I will make you. I will wash you. I will take care of everything.” John was dead serious.  
“You can’t do this, John. Please?” Sherlock begged. He was wide awake now.  
“No, Sherlock. Crying won’t help now.” Sherlock kept looking at him while John collected some things to bring into Sherlock’s bedroom. He wanted to sit in his armchair for a while to look after him.  
“I don’t want you to watch me. Go away.” He ordered from the bed after John had settled down with a book and his computer.  
“And I don’t want you to choke on your own vomit. You will feel it soon enough.” Sherlock turned his head away and his fingers curled into fists. But he stopped speaking.


	2. Chapter Two

John let him fall asleep and kept watching over him. When Sherlock woke, he started to beg again.  
“Please, John, please, please, please? I need something or I am going to die! I can’t stand this! God, please?”  
“No.” John didn’t even look up.  
“But I need some! You are killing me!” John didn’t react to his pleas and Sherlock stopped.  
“I’ll do anything you want, John.” Suddenly he sounded very seductive and it made John look up.  
“I know what you want, John. You never delete your browser history.” Sherlock smirked when John blushed.  
“You like it when they fight, don’t you? When they keep pulling at their restraints?” He pulled hard and languidly stretched his body. John swallowed.  
“Why don’t you take the kind offering, John? Come here and do me …” Now he even tilted up his hips.  
“Stop that right away, Sherlock, please. You are not yourself right now.” Sherlock laughed.  
“Oh, you have absolutely no idea.” John stood and checked his watch.  
“It’s time to eat and drink.” John said.  
“Not hungry. Not thirsty.” Sherlock answered.  
“If you don’t eat, I will put a tube into you and you will have only fluids for the time being.” Sherlock chewed on his lips.  
“Do as you please. Perhaps this might be your new kink?” John left the bedroom and Sherlock listened to him mix something. When he returned, he brought some kind of smoothie and his med-kit from upstairs. He placed everything close by and straddled him again. He forced his mouth open by pressing his fingers into his jaw.  
Sherlock groaned and it almost broke John’s heart. But he kept going.  
“If you don't start swallowing it down, it will hurt very much when I keep shoving it down your throat.” Sherlock was sane enough to swallow. John relaxed just a tiny bit and moved the tube down so he could finally start the feeding. Tears rolled over Sherlock’s face but he had stopped fighting. It had been not a good experience.  
After John was done Sherlock belched and looked smug.  
“You know you have to let me up. Sooner or later I will need the loo.” John shook his head and pulled a diaper out of his kit.  
“No, you don’t.” Sherlock’s eyes widened and he started the yelling and shaking again but John just put the thing on him.  
“See? This could have been so much easier for you.”  
“Please? Please, John? You can’t do this to me … Just don’t … God, I … Please?” He started to cry again.  
“No, Sherlock. This stays on as long as needed. You don’t have to worry. You know I am a doctor. Try to see me only as your doctor and not as your flatmate and friend.” Now Sherlock slanted his eyes.  
“Friend? You have stopped being my friend when you tied me to my bed and do all the other nasty business.” John paled and Sherlock smirked. This had hurt but John knew it was the drugs and detox speaking.  
“We will talk about everything when you are clean again. It will probably take a few days. I will be here all the time and nothing will happen to you.” John spoke very quietly and looked at the wall.  
“It already happened that I am tied to my bed and am about to shit myself like a fucking baby!” Sherlock yelled again.  
“Behave and you can detox more cosily.” John answered roughly.  
“Whenever I am done here you better should be watching over your shoulder, Dr Watson.” Sherlock sounded dead serious and these were the last words he spoke to John while he got the drugs out of his system.  
He also didn’t speak to his brother Mycroft when said one came and made his promised visit two days later. He just stared into nothing while crying and sweating and filling his diapers.  
Mycroft was shocked and paled dramatically. John made him sit in Sherlock’s chair and poured a drink for him.  
“Drink, Mycroft, and come down. Take your time.” Mycroft closed his eyes and sipped the drink. It took him almost ten minutes until he was able to say something. Slowly he looked up and cleared his throat.  
“I don’t know what to do, John. I am forever grateful. I owe you a lot; we owe you a lot only he doesn’t know yet. Whatever you need, John. Everything can be arranged, will be arranged. Just name it.” John sadly smiled.  
“I might need protection when he is back. He hates me. And I can understand. What I do to him now is very humiliating. We can never be the same when this is over, we can never go back.”  
“He will understand. Perhaps not at once but he will forgive you. He …” Mycroft bit into his lip and emptied his glass.  
“He will be in need of some supervision after the detox. While he is sleeping now, I am already looking for a new place.”  
“Nonsense, John.” But John shook his head.  
“No, Mycroft. I can’t be around him and so can’t he with me. It’s not possible.” John sadly said.  
“Well, you will stay with me then. I consider you family, John. You are his best friend.” John was surprised.  
“I appreciate the offer, Mycroft. Thank you.” John nodded. They sat in silence until they heard Sherlock vomit. John stood at once and hurried into the bedroom. Mycroft didn’t follow. He closed his eyes to stop the tears from falling.  
Inside the bedroom John knelt by Sherlock’s side and held his head up and to the side. Sherlock had lost many kilos and weighed almost nothing for a man his height. His hair was greasy and his cheekbones stood out prominently.  
John made him take the water and spit it out. He was too weak to even try to spit it into John’s face. Afterwards he gave him tea and Sherlock just drank it.  
Their eyes once met and Sherlock just closed his. John placed him back down and checked his diaper. The vomiting had had its effects and he took it off, too. He wiped him clean and put a fresh one on him. He washed his face, too, and left again. All the time he listened to him crying.  
Back in the living-room his hands shook and he had to sit down. Mycroft watched him and made a decision.


	3. Chapter Three

Mycroft made some calls and got rid of his jacket and shoes. He took the freedom and marched into his brother’s bedroom. He found some comfy clothes that fit him just fine. Anthea brought some more and she also brought some supplies.  
John had fallen asleep on his armchair and Mycroft pulled a blanket over his body. John didn’t notice anything. So, when Sherlock was coughing out loudly and roughly it was Mycroft who appeared by his side and sat down. Sherlock looked at him and needed a bit until he recognised him.  
“You ganged up with the evil doctor, brother-mine. I am disappointed.” He coughed again and a full-body shiver ran through him.  
“No, I am helping him helping you, Sherlock. You have to get rid of the drugs in your system. I saw the note you made for him.” He took his cold hand.  
“And for you …” Sherlock said grinning a horrible smile.  
“Of course, and for me. It could have killed you.” Sherlock nodded.  
“Yes, it could. But it didn’t, did it? I was so bored …”  
“Do you know how hard this is for John? How you make him suffer?” Mycroft asked.  
“Oh, I will really make him suffer. Just wait until I am out of here …” He coughed again.  
“He told me you threatened him, only he used other words. I offered him a home in my place. He hurts, Sherlock.”  
“He is hurting me.”  
“Why did you start using again? What happened?” Mycroft wanted to know.  
“I already told you, I was bored. There were no new cases. I felt left behind; I was alone. I was lonely …” He swallowed and turned his head away.  
“How can you feel left behind with John around? He is always there for you; he would do anything for you.”  
“He would do anything to me, you mean.”  
“He is just helping you now. He could have taken you into hospital and you know what would have happened there. This is so much better. He only does this because he doesn’t want to lose you. He likes you a lot.” Sherlock quietly snorted but didn’t answer.  
“I am suffering, Myc. I can’t stand having him around, seeing me like this. I feel … nothing. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to be like this …” He sobbed and cried very quietly and pulled at Mycroft’s hand as good as he could with his cuffed hand.  
But Mycroft understood very well what his brother wanted. He slowly moved up and under the blanket. He rolled close to his body and held him. He took his head and held it against his chest. Sherlock breathed and sobbed for a few times but then just blacked out.  
Mycroft could feel his rather unsteady heartbeat for a bit but soon it slowed down. Sherlock was on his way back. Perhaps three more days or so Mycroft assumed staring at the bedroom door.  
His fingers were moving through Sherlock’s greasy hair but he didn’t mind. A few hours later the door was opened and John stood there rubbing his tired eyes. Their eyes met and both men smiled.  
“Are you hungry, Mycroft?” He nodded.  
“Yes, no matter what. Just order something?” He whispered back.  
“OK.” John looked at Sherlock but rather quickly closed the door again.  
Mycroft tried to wake him up.  
“Sherlock, wake up. I need to get up and eat. And so, should you. Please? For me?” He whispered and Sherlock’s eye-lids fluttered open and focused on him.  
“Myc …” He smiled an exhausted smile. He had given up.  
“I am hungry. Just a little bit?” Mycroft smiled a broad smile and moved out of bed.  
“I am sure John will cook a chicken broth for you. You can’t have meat or Thai or anything. That will need time.”  
“Can’t you cook it for me? I don’t …” He pleadingly looked at his brother who moved his fingers over his forehead.  
“Don’t be stupid, Sherlock. You know what might happen when I cook. Please eat it.”  
“Whatever …” Mycroft turned away.  
“Myc?” He looked over his shoulder.  
“Yes?” He asked.  
“Please come back tonight?” He begged.  
“Of course, if you want, I will be staying with you.” He smiled and went to see John.

***

John in the meantime had ordered food and he was just paying the delivery guy. Mycroft could smell the broth though. He walked into the kitchen and had a look. It looked rich and tasty and he took a bowl from the cupboard.  
“It should be ready by now. I had prepared it beforehand.” Mycroft looked at him.  
“We will have dinner first. Sherlock asked me to cook for him because he doesn’t want it from you. If it takes longer, he won’t know. He is not at his best and it will work. It’s all fine, John. Sit down now.” John plonked on a chair in the kitchen and sighed. He rubbed over his tired eyes while Mycroft filled a plate for him and placed it on the table.  
“Please eat, John.” John played a bit with his food but finally the hunger won and he ate everything. So did Mycroft. Afterwards he filled the bowl for Sherlock and disappeared into the bedroom to feed his brother.  
John’s eyes followed him and after Mycroft had closed the door behind him, he fell back into his armchair and buried his head into his hands. His whole body became smaller somehow until his head rested on his thighs. He tried to suppress his sobbing but failed. He only hoped it wasn’t too loud.  
Fortunately, Mycroft took his time with Sherlock. John splashed cold water on his face and poured another drink. He really hoped Mycroft would take over the night-shift.  
He returned after more than one hour with an empty bowl.  
“John, I need you to make him ready for the night. I will stay with him if you don’t mind?” He looked at him.  
“No, of course not. I am thankful, I really am. I’ll get the things.”  
“I will join you and hold him somehow. I am sure you understand.”  
“I do.” John looked away and grabbed his kit. Together with Mycroft he returned to Sherlock’s side. He tried to look at him and get eye-contact but Mycroft already was between them. He shielded him and held him against his body. Sherlock at once hid his face against Mycroft’s chest and started to cry when John started to clean him up.  
It broke John’s heart but he kept being professional and put another diaper on him.  
“Good night, Sherlock. Mycroft, if you need me, I will be upstairs.” They looked at each other.  
“Thank you, John. We’ll be fine. Perhaps only one more bottle of water?” John nodded.  
“Sure. I’ll be right back.” John brought the water and also some fruits and chocolate for them. Then he took a very long shower and retreated into his room upstairs. And after a very long time he took a sleeping-pill.


	4. Chapter Four

They spent the following days like this until Sherlock was almost back to normal. His pulse was fine and the detox had worked pretty well.  
John considered taking him off the bed on the sixth day after he had controlled Sherlock’s blood. Mycroft had never left and looked as dishevelled as Sherlock and John.  
“I think we can safely let him get up again. If he stays for a while under your supervision, he should be just fine.”  
“That sounds great, John. I already wondered if you would like to stay here and I take Sherlock back home with me. But …” Mycroft slowly shook his head.  
“But what?” John asked.  
“I am scared you would do something very stupid all alone in here.” John quietly snorted.  
“Like what? Shoot myself in the head? I believe Sherlock will do it for me.” Mycroft looked shocked.  
“No, of course not. He might have said several awful things to you. But you know in what kind of state he was. He didn’t mean it.” John just sadly smiled but didn’t answer. Only after a few minutes he said:  
“I’ll stay here. You don’t have to worry. Take him home with you. He will need you.” Mycroft nodded.  
“Very well. I will take the cuffs off now and make him ready. Perhaps it’s better when he doesn’t see you.” John nodded abruptly.  
“Oh, absolutely. I will hide in my room. Thanks again, Mycroft. See you.” John turned around and slowly walked upstairs.  
“I will keep you informed, John.” Mycroft said and John just nodded. Mycroft worried his lips and slowly turned around to fetch Sherlock.  
Inside his bedroom they locked eyes and finally he carefully opened the cuffs. He first took the ones around his ankles away and Sherlock at once moved his legs. He groaned.  
“I know, little brother. I already arranged a massage for you at my place.” That made Sherlock smile. Then came the ones around his wrists. Sherlock tried to sit up but couldn’t. He groaned louder and Mycroft helped him sit up against the headrest.  
“There you are. Take your time. Shower and get the thing off of you. John is upstairs. He will stay here and you will come with me.” Mycroft told him.  
“I don’t care what John does or where he is right now. I never want to see him again.” Sherlock ground his teeth and tried to get up. He swayed for a bit but made it into the bath where he just stuffed the used diaper into the laundry-bag.  
He showered for quite a while and afterwards Mycroft helped him dress into comfy clothes and sneakers.  
“Would you like to take anything with you?” Mycroft asked getting their jackets.  
“No, let’s just leave.” Mycroft led him outside where Anthea already waited with the car. She drove them back to Mycroft’s.  
Sherlock was sweating already from the exhaustion. He fell on the sofa and closed his eyes.  
“Would you like anything? Are you hungry?” But Sherlock shook his head.  
“No, not yet.” He looked up at him.  
“I promise to eat but not right now. I would like to rest for a bit but not alone. May I stay with you? Please?” He looked hopeful and Mycroft wondered how long all this would last.  
“Sure, let’s rest for a while.” They walked upstairs and Sherlock shed everything except for his socks and boxers. Quickly he crawled under the blanket and expectantly looked at Mycroft.  
“I’ll be right with you.” Mycroft only got a bottle of water and placed it on the nightstand. He undressed, too, and joined his brother who at once curled up against him. He quickly fell asleep and Mycroft just stared into nothing.

***

Back at Baker Street John moved downstairs after the brothers had left. He started cleaning the bath and didn’t even twitch when finding the diaper in the laundry-bag. He also washed Sherlock’s sheets and blanket and prepared everything for later.  
Afterwards he cleaned the kitchen and the living-room. He went shopping and re-arranged the book-shelve. It was dark outside when he was exhausted enough to go to bed. But he wasn’t able to sleep.  
After two hours of rolling around and sweating he got up again and started to clean his room, too. The sun came up when he started to clean the windows.  
He stayed at Baker Street for the next three days. Only then he gave up and packed a bag. He knew Mycroft was watching anyway but he didn’t care. He called the only person he could think of.  
“This is John. You got five seconds?” He asked after Greg had picked up.  
“Sure, what’s up?” Lestrade carefully asked because he had heard from Mycroft already.  
“I need your help. I actually need a place to crash.” John closed his eyes and hoped.  
“John, are you alright? Do you need me now?” John almost cried but once inhaled deeply.  
“No, I can wait until you get home. It’s all fine.” He assured Greg.  
“You don’t sound all fine, John. Listen. I am still at the Yard. Just come over and I will be done in an hour.” Greg suggested and John felt much better at once.  
“Thank you, Greg. Really, thank you.” John could only whisper and sounded rather rough.  
“See you in a few then, John.” They hung up and Greg leaned back into his chair. After a minute he picked up his phone again and called Mycroft.  
“Greg, did John call?” Greg smiled.  
“Yes, he just did. I invited him over and he will stay with me.” Mycroft was able to hear him smile.  
“Thanks for helping, Greg. Oh, don’t make me jealous.” Greg grinned.  
“I invited him over into my flat and not into my bed, Myc.” Now Mycroft could hear him laugh and had to smile.  
“I am glad to hear that.” Then there was background noise, something clattered on the ground.  
“How is Sherlock?” Greg finally asked. Mycroft sighed.  
“Much better by now. I am feeding him a lot of junk food because he has lost a lot of weight. He still is hyperactive and runs around like mad. At least he didn’t run away. He won’t leave my side though. And he still hates John.”  
“Oh dear.” Greg muttered.  
“Perhaps I should talk to him?” He suggested.  
“If you like? I think it’s fine with him.” Both men then just listened to each other breathing.  
“I miss you.” Greg was the first to say. It made Mycroft happy.  
“I miss you more. Come over whenever you want.” They hung up. Greg called Sally and she came into his office.  
“Boss?” She sat on the chair and looked at him.  
“Dr Watson will be coming over in a minute. Sherlock has been very sick and he needs support now. He will stay with me for a while and I will take him home soon. Please take over some of my stuff, Sally?” He looked at her.  
“Sure thing, boss. It’s the good Dr Watson, for him it’s no problem.” She smiled and grabbed several folders from Greg’s desk. Greg sighed and didn’t tell her off. Instead he cleaned his desk and waited for John to arrive.

***

Back at Mycroft’s Sherlock harassed his brother and went on his nerves.  
“But I want a drink! Only a glass of wine, please? It has been days!” He twitched and moved from one leg to the other. Mycroft was preparing dinner.  
“No, Sherlock. No alcohol while you are on meds.”  
“Gods, it’s not that I am mixing coke into the stuff!” Sherlock almost shouted and it made Mycroft turn around.  
“Mind your voice, brother-mine. Not in my house, am I understood?” He stared him down and Sherlock made a step back.  
“I am sorry, Myc. It’s just, I don’t know what it is. I am scared it all starts again.” Sherlock was speaking rather quietly.  
“That’s why you are here with me, you see? You will get over it. But you won’t replace one drug with another, do you hear me?” Mycroft was dead serious.  
“Yes, I do.” He sat on a barstool and watched his brother.  
“What about Greg?” He asked after a while.  
“What about Greg?” Mycroft said and kept stirring the sauce for the pasta.  
“You haven’t seen him for a while. He couldn’t come over because of me. I don’t want you to lose him.” Sherlock still spoke very quietly and rested his chin on his folded arms.  
Mycroft was surprised and turned around. He looked at his younger sibling.  
“I have just talked to him. We are good, Sherlock. He understands and everything is just fine.” He assured him.  
“I am glad to hear that, Myc. It’s enough that I made John go away.” He roughly whispered.  
“You didn’t make him go away, Sherlock.”  
“I was awful to him. I told him I hate him and that I never want to see him again. For sure he must be gone by now.” He once sobbed.  
“You were on detox. Of course, it hurt him. I was able to see that. He was and is very sad. But I took care of him. He stays with Greg now, so you don’t have to worry.” Sherlock looked up.  
“See? He has left our home! He will never come back!” Tears were falling freely on the kitchen-counter and Mycroft handed him the Kleenex box.  
“Blow your nose. There is absolutely no reason to get upset.” Sherlock blew his nose and let out a final sob.  
“How can you be so sure? I threatened to kill him!” Sherlock was desperate.  
“I know. He told me. But he stayed, didn’t he? He took care of you and helped you detox. He did everything he needed to do even though it broke his heart.” They looked at each other. Very slowly Sherlock began to understand.  
“You think he stayed because …” Sherlock said and Mycroft nodded.  
“Exactly. I may not be good with emotions but since Greg is with me it became better. Well, I have learnt my lessons well or so I believe.” Mycroft remembered several scenes with Greg when they had almost started to shove each other around.  
“I don’t want him to leave me.” Sherlock said.  
“Why don’t you want him to leave you?” Mycroft turned his back on him and collected plates.  
“I would miss him a lot.” Sherlock answered.  
“Why would you miss him a lot?” Mycroft kept asking while filling the plates.  
“He does the shopping and everything. He brings me stuff. He makes me tea. He blogs my cases.” Mycroft placed the meal in front of Sherlock.  
“Really, brother-mine, what do you feel? First word that pops up in your mind. Now!” The second plate came down with a thud.  
“Love.” Sherlock said without hesitation. Mycroft smiled.

***

John didn’t want to enter the Yard building so he texted Greg that he waited outside. Greg sighed but left right away. He got his car from the garage and stopped by John’s side.  
“God, John, you look awful.” Greg just spit it out.  
“Yeah, mate, thanks.” But he smiled saying so.  
“I am driving home now. I believe you are in desperate need of a comfy zone and some good food. Perhaps some booze?” John slowly nodded.  
“Sounds very good, Greg.” John looked out of the window and thought of Sherlock. He wondered if Greg knew something about his well-being. Should he ask?  
Greg reached his home rather quickly and parked the car. He let John inside and showed him the guest-room. John dropped his bag and looked around. This was rather nice. He hadn’t expected something like that but now he was glad.  
“Come on now. First, we will have a drink. And then I will prepare dinner. What about some decent pub food?” Absolutely unconsciously John licked his lips.  
“God, yes!” He finally said and it made Greg smile. They walked into the living-room and Greg made him sit on the sofa. He brought them each a bottle of beer and they quietly sipped it. Greg knew he needed some time and just waited patiently.  
“Did Mycroft tell you anything already?” John finally asked.  
“A little bit, yes. But I want to hear it from you directly, John. Tell me what happened. Tell me what Sherlock did to you.” At first John drank again.  
“I came home and he was out of his mind. I found out what he had taken and was shocked. We fought and he bit me, scratched me, kicked me and even spit at me.” John had to close his burning eyes and his hand trembled.  
“Take your time, John.” Greg stroked over his back and comforted him. After a minute John cleared his throat and continued.  
“It ended with him cuffed to his bed and clad in diapers. He cried and sobbed, he begged and pleaded. Finally, he threatened me and said he never wanted to see me again. I know it was the drugs talking but anyway. It hurt so much. I don’t want to lose him, Greg.”  
“You won’t lose him, John.” They looked at each other.  
“How on earth can you know that?” John asked.  
“I just know it. He was high when saying so. But when he is on crime scenes with you, he’s totally different. The way he looks at you is absolutely crystal clear. He likes you a lot.” Greg shrugged helplessly.  
“What do you mean the way he looks at me? I never saw …” John was surprised. Greg grinned.  
“Well, he looks at you the same way you look at him when you think no one watches.” Now John flushed a nice shade of red and he concentrated on his empty bottle of beer.  
“See? No need to deny it.” John sighed and leant back into the sofa.  
“Probably not, no.” He smiled a sad smile. Then his stomach rumbled. Greg stood up.  
“Join me in the kitchen if you like.” They got up and prepared a huge portion of fish and chips together. For the first time in days John really enjoyed having dinner and ate a lot.  
After dinner Greg poured drinks and they returned into the living-room.  
“What am I supposed to do now?” John asked sipping his whiskey.  
“Wait for a few days. I am convinced he will come to you.” Greg assured John.  
“He is with Mycroft, isn’t he? Did you know they shared a bed in the past?” Greg slowly nodded.  
“They are very close even though they are seven years apart. Once Myc told me that Sherlock used to crawl into his bed when he was a little boy.” Greg smiled.  
“Why did he tell you at all? I mean …” John cleared his throat.  
“I know, I know. Normally he wouldn’t have. But once when I went over to see him, I found him in bed with Sherlock. Of course, I was a bit shocked and he explained at once. I thought it rather cute actually considering the fact that people call him the ice-man.” John grinned.  
“Yes, I can see that.” They sat quietly for a while thinking about the brothers.  
“So, you really think there is hope for us?” John asked hopefully and looked at Greg.  
“Oh, absolutely. Don’t worry, John. You may sleep in peace, believe me.”  
“And actually, I will do that right away. I am done for today.” Greg nodded.  
“That’s OK, John. Do you need anything else?” John had another look and only asked for a second pillow.  
“Here you are. Sleep well. And if you need anything, please don’t hesitate and come over.”  
“Thank you, Greg.” John quickly went through his bathroom-routine and climbed under the blanket in his pyjamas and a tee. He had brought an old and very rutty tee from Sherlock and buried his nose into it. He fell asleep very quickly.

***

Greg once needed the loo during the night and checked on John on his way back. He quietly opened the door and had to grin. Quickly he took a picture and closed the door again. He sent it to Myc right away.

_“See? No reason to worry.”  
GL_

The reply was quick. He couldn’t have slept.

_“I don’t see. What am I supposed to see?”  
MH_

Greg sighed and rubbed over his forehead.

_“John has Sherlock’s tee. He sleeps with hit. You see but you don’t observe.”  
GL_

Greg smirked when sending the text.

_“Stop quoting my brother.”  
MH_

_“But I was right.”  
GL_

_"I think Sherlock is ready to face John.”  
MH_

Greg was happy to read that.

_“When? Dinner?”  
GL_

_“The day after tomorrow at my place at 7.”  
MH_

_“Can’t wait!”  
GL_

_“I love you.”  
MH_

_Greg saved the text and had to blow his nose._

_ _“Love you more.”  
GL_ _

_***_

_Sherlock and Mycroft stood in the kitchen and stared at each other.  
“I don’t like this.” Sherlock said pointing towards the eggs. Mycroft sighed.  
“You need to eat.” He seriously said.  
“I want pancakes.” Sherlock said. Mycroft raised a brow.  
“Make them yourself, you spoiled brat.” But he smiled saying so. Sherlock plonked on a chair.  
“John used to make me pancakes on Sundays.” He whispered and started to eat the eggs.  
“I think you should talk to him. Explain yourself and your feelings. Tell him, Sherlock.”  
“I can’t. He will hate me.” He picked the food and Mycroft took the fork away.  
“No, he won’t. I invited Greg and him for dinner. You won’t hide somewhere on the attic, do you understand?”  
“But …” Sherlock tried to talk back but Mycroft wouldn’t listen to his words.  
“No, Sherlock. Shut up.” Sherlock closed his mouth and sighed. He looked at him.  
“You know, actually I look forward to see him again. I miss him so much.”  
“Tell him so. Tell him you miss him and his pancakes. He will be so happy about it.”  
“Why do you think so?” Sherlock asked.  
“I don’t only think so, I know so. See? Greg texted this picture.” He showed him the picture of the sleeping John holding the tee to his face. Sherlock stared at it and smiled.  
“This is unexpected. Will you please send it to my phone?” Mycroft nodded and did just that.  
“So, will you see him?” Mycroft asked. Sherlock looked up cradling his phone. He slowly nodded.  
“Yes.”_


	5. Chapter Five

John showered for a very long time. He actually showered until Greg knocked on the door because he needed to shower, too.  
It was the day he would be seeing Sherlock again. His heart beat fast and loud and he was a bit pale. Greg looked a bit worried but let it go.  
Next John stood in front of the mirror in his tiny guest-room and wondered about his appearance. He hadn’t brought that many things to dress and at the end he ended up in his soft well-worn jeans and his oatmeal jumper.  
“You look nice enough, John.” Greg said when they were on their way. John looked at him.  
“It won’t change his opinion no matter what.” John answered.  
“You don’t have to worry. Just be there and he will come up to you.” John swallowed.  
“I am scared to death …” John whispered looking out of the window.  
“Stop it then. You have no reason. OK, straighten up, we are there.” Greg parked the car at the curb in front of Mycroft’s house. Actually, John had never been here and he was surprised and in awe. This was a fucking palace in the middle of London.  
Now he wasn’t only scared to death, now he was also intimidated.  
“Fuck …” He whispered looking around standing in the hallway.  
“Yes, it’s awesome, isn’t it? I feel like a bloody Prince all the time.” Greg grinned and somehow John had to grin, too.  
“Greg, John, welcome to my home.” Mycroft hurried through the hall to greet them. At first, he shook John’s hand and when he turned to Greg, he just pulled him into his arms and hugged him tight. Then they kissed and John was very happy for them.  
Mycroft cleared his throat.  
“Forgive me, John. Sherlock is in the living-room. He is waiting for you.” And he gave him a reassuring smile. John swallowed. Then he straightened his body and followed the direction both Mycroft and Greg were pointing out. He walked slowly and then only stood in the doorway for a minute or so just to watch Sherlock.  
He stood in front of the window and was bathed in sunlight. His skin glowed and he was so very thin. Even though he had gained some weight it wasn’t enough. John kept watching him but suddenly he looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened for some seconds but then he cast them and stayed where he was.  
John made some careful steps into the room to see if he would go away but he didn’t. John dared and stepped up.  
“Sherlock …” Their eyes met and John saw the tears in his eyes. He had to swallow and instinctively reached out for his hand. He felt him twitch but he didn’t pull away. He could feel his pulse. It was racing and so was John’s.  
“John, I am so sorry …” His voice broke right then and he started to cry. Tears fell over his cheekbones and he cried in absolute silence.  
“Don’t cry, please. I am glad we are here together, that there still is a we.” John smiled looking up at him.  
“I would like you to come back home to Baker Street. I want your pancakes. Mycroft said I should tell you. I never told you, didn’t I? How much I liked them?” Hopefully he looked at John.  
“If you promise not to hurt me like this ever again, I will come back and bake you pancakes every single fucking day!” John said smiling. And suddenly Sherlock pulled him against his body and slung his long arms around his broad frame.  
John deeply inhaled his scent. He smelled his expensive shampoo and lotion; he also smelled a bit of smoke and some alcohol and he smelled just plain Sherlock. He inhaled deeply again and moved his nose over some bare skin he could reach.  
Sherlock let his hands wander over John’s back. He felt his muscles twitch and his body warmth. He smelled wood, tea and vanilla. Everything that was John. He sighed. How could he have treated him so badly?  
“Please say it …” Sherlock roughly whispered. John looked up.  
“Say what?” John asked because he really didn’t understand. He wiped some tears off his face and Sherlock closed his eyes.  
“You need to say that you forgive me. Please, John?” He begged him.  
“There is nothing to forgive, Sherlock. I am just happy we are back together. That’s all you need to know.”  
“Say it. It won’t be over for me if you don’t say it. Please tell me I am forgiven.” He stared at him.  
“I forgive you, Sherlock. I will always forgive you. I will always be there for you.” Sherlock smiled.  
“I know now that you will do anything needed. You will do it for me.” Sherlock whispered the words.  
“That’s right. And do you know why?” John asked. Sherlock tilted his head.  
“Why?” He asked but smiled while doing so.  
“Because I love you. I love you, Sherlock.” John had said the words and now his guts were all coiled up.  
“And I love you, John.”


End file.
